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Why I look at the swell of his ass hidden only by the towel, I have no idea.
Apparently, a cold shower is what I need right now anyway. Maybe if I freeze my dick and make it shrivel up every time it gets swollen over that guy, it’ll stop doing that shit.
The bathroom is hot and humid when I go in and shut and lock the door. I turn on the shower, and the water is still room temperature at best, even after I’ve gotten undressed.
Ready to get it over with, I climb in and step under the spray.
There are new bottles of shampoo and bodywash on the tub shelf, obviously Thane’s.
At least he brought his own and isn’t using up all of mine.
The bodywash says it’s eucalyptus scented. I only pick it up and pop the top because I want to know what a eucalyptus smells like.
The minty scent definitely opens up my sinuses.
And reminds me of that minty kiss. It’s like he oozes the scent inside and out.
When my lower body reacts, I put the shampoo back where I found it, then reach behind me to turn the temperature dial to cold.
Ice-cold.
I can’t wait until that man is out of my house.
How long does it take someone to recover from a gunshot wound?
CHAPTERTWENTY-ONE
Thane
Icheck my phone for the millionth time today, but there are no messages. Not a single one from Isaac. Nothing from Hank, who has fingers too fat to type, or Everett either, not since they dropped off my things.
By now, they’ve probably moved me out of my apartment, which sucks. I have no clue where the hell I’m gonna go when I leave here. It’s not like I have much savings. Living paycheck to paycheck has always been my way of life. Better than my mom’s method of always being in a deep hole way before she earned a week’s pay.
She never kept a job for more than a few months before she would get fired for missing too many days or get caught stealing.
The stealing would usually get her arrested, which meant off to another foster home for me.
None of the foster parents I lived with even tried to get to know me. I was a temporary inconvenience. Soon enough, they would be rid of me, and until then, they would gladly collect the payments for keeping me fed and alive.
I hated being the abandoned kid of a thieving addict, moving from one school, one neighborhood, to another.
It was embarrassing and lonely.
Which is exactly how I feel sitting in the dark in yet another strange house with a bleeding hole in my side that makes me feel weak. Worthless.
I’m in the middle of my pity party when the moans and grunting on the other side of the wall start up.
Lyla and Barrett have been going at it like rabbits pretty much all day long. For some reason, they’re even louder at night.
I hit the volume button on the television remote to increase the volume of my movie. It doesn’t completely drown out the noises, but it’s better than nothing.
Tuning out sex sounds is nothing new for me either. My mother had horrible taste in men, and she wasn’t picky. Any dick with a few dollars would do.
When I was a teenager and first noticed that I wasn’t interested in women, I wondered if my upbringing had anything to do with it. If I couldn’t trust my own mother not to throw me to the wolves if it helped her escape, then how could I ever trust any other woman?
I tried to masturbate to women fucking men, but they had zero appeal. The naked masculine body was what I was drawn to, and that never changed.
So no, I don’t think I can blame my sexuality on the woman who gave birth to me. The woman I blame for fucking me up in every other way.
